


End of the Road

by orphan_account



Series: Teen Wolf Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 22:50:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6303235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sterek - Slow Dancing </p><p>Stiles gets new neighbors upstairs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	End of the Road

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Inell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/gifts).



> For Inell :) who prompted a Sterek Slow Dancing fic!
> 
> ♦:Slow dancing for either Stiles/Jackson or Stiles/Derek

Stiles rubbed his temple and looked down at the stack of ungraded criminal law mid-term papers on his dining table. This was the sixth round of thuds and squeals he’d heard that day. He knew he had new upstairs neighbors. He’d seen the U-Haul van and heard boxes and furniture being dragged upstairs all week. He’d also caught a glimpse of this gorgeous woman with piercing hazel-green eyes and lush auburn hair.  
  
He needed to put his foot down. Stand up for himself. Tell the asshole upstairs to quiet down so he can finish this and get some damn sleep before he repeated the class-TA-grade-sleep cycle tomorrow. If his students hated mid-terms week, he hated it even more.

 

Though, after stomping upstairs in righteous anger, he was hit with a sudden rush of anxiety. What if the guy was some serial-killer type who didn’t like barely legal-looking TAs calling him out for excessive noise?  
  
While he was dithering between raising his hand to knock and bolting back downstairs, the door inched open and a tiny head peeked at him. Stiles caught the kid’s eyes going wide and the door was flung wide open. He looked about six or seven, wearing a Wonder Woman onesie and turned back.  
  
“Dad! The Elf Prince is here!”    
  
_Wait, what? Seriously? Did the guy who lived here think his ears were funny or something?_  
  
“Yes, may I help you?” A man stepped out from behind and glared at Stiles.  
  
Whoa. It was a lot to take in. From the piercing gold-green-grey eyes, gorgeous beard accessorized with flower clips-ons to the purple lipstick and iridescent blue crown perched on his perfectly spiked hair. Stiles’ eyes swept down to the broad chest, the way the white henley encased it and how his chest hair was peeking out, suddenly wishing he could be a button on it or something.    
  
“Um, yeah, see, you guys are-”  
  
“Dad,” the kid cuts in and _giggles_ , “ask for your hand in marriage? Like the story you told me yesterday?”  
  
“Jackson, what did I tell you about opening the door to strangers?” The boy shuffled his feet on the lush carpet.  
  
“That I’m not supposed ta’,” Jackson murmured, deflating.  
  
“Good, we’re gonna talk about this later, okay? Go sit on the couch and watch the video for me.”  
  
“Okay!” The boy couldn’t get away fast enough.  
  
The man crossed his arms in front of him and diverted his gaze to Stiles again, looking downright murderous. He was totally gonna die. It should have been hilarious, his crown askew and lips thinning. He already had a finger on his phone, to whip out and call his dad, ready to book it out of there.  
  
“Again, may I help you?”  
  
Stiles had a problem and it was wearing a henley and staring daggers at him. He was so gone.  
  
“My name is Stiles. Um, Stiles Stilinski. I was wondering-”  
  
“Have you _not_ seen the ‘No Soliciting’ sign at my door?” The man looks absolutely livid.  
  
"Whoa, dude, what? I _live_ downstairs. You guys have been making a steady racket for the past week and I'm just trying to get some  _work_ done. Could you guys please quiet down? Just a bit?” Stiles’ hands flailed up and he held up a small gap between his index and thumb. And dropped his arm realizing how dumb it looked.

“It’s just- I’m trying to grade some papers,” Stiles got it all out, before he did something stupid in panic and his dad really needed to get down here.  
  
The man's gaze falters just a bit, “I’m sorry. We’ll try.”  
  
And that was the end of the conversation, apparently, because Stiles faced a closed door the next second.  
  
“Damn it!”  
  
When Stiles stalked back to his apartment, the noise started up again.

***

Stiles was woken up rudely on on his day off a few days later He groaned and punched his pillow, pulling it over his ears. No dice.

That was it. The squealing was cute for a few days. He’d tried to cope. He’d brought out his box fan and played white noise to lessen the sounds just a bit. He even found a quiet corner in the Law department’s office and finished grading the papers.

He placed an angry email to building management, wanting a paper trail for the noise complaint he was filing. He then received a terse reply a short while later, saying they’d discuss this issue with one Mr Hale.

He didn't hear much from upstairs for at least a week.

***

The next time it happened, Stiles was hovering over a simmering pot of borscht at eight in the morning. He almost dropped the entire bottle of salt as he’d been trying to get into a teaspoon over the stove.

He really didn’t deserve this on the one week day he had free.  
  
As he made his way upstairs, the sounds of _Boyz II Men_ reached his ears and Stiles froze at the scene playing out in front of him as he stood outside the Hale residence.  
  
Derek was _dancing_.  
  
_Slow dancing_ with Jackson standing on the top of his foot and he was swinging him around, touch stepping in place for a few lines. Jackson kept jumping off, twirling around, bounding around in loud thuds, while Derek was laughing, chasing and trying to catch him. And it continued, with Derek trying to teach his son the basics of slow dancing, ever patient, letting Jackson scramble onto to the back of his feet every time he slipped off.  
  
Then Stiles spotted the same lady he’d seen a few weeks ago. She was clapping along and hovering with her arms out, ready to catch Jackson if he tipped backwards too much.  
  
“Derek, stop spinning him around so much. You’ll make him dizzy!” She was breathless, a pretty blush coloring her cheeks.  
  
“Laura, he’ll have faster girls or boys to twirl around at the dance next week!” Derek dipped Jackson and he squealed.  
  
Stiles watched this for a few more minutes, lost in the fucking domesticity of the whole thing and he had felt something a sudden sharp pang.     
  
Of _course_. His _wife_.  
  
He headed down to his apartment.  
  
Again, he had to fall for the one person he couldn’t have. Like his fiery crush on Lydia Martin wasn’t embarrassing enough. It was funny how he was actually _friends_ with Lydia now “brunching” with her almost every month.    
  
Every _time_.  
  
And in his haste, he doesn’t hear Jackson calling out to him.

***

The sounds from upstairs became a lot more subdued after his foray upstairs in the morning. Stiles started to wonder if Jackson got sick or something. A soft knock takes him away from the lesson plan he’s been trying to bang out for the past hour. As much as he hated working on a weekend off, it was never going to get done unless he was in a certain mood. And he really did want to get this over with.  
  
He heard hushed voices outside and peered through the fish-eye door viewer, checking if it were kids selling cookies again. He’d already gotten three boxes of Tagalongs. He wasn’t going to let their cute little faces con him into getting more cookies. Again.  
  
He was surprised to see Derek. And a rather subdued Jackson, who’d abandoned his usual bounce to cling to Derek’s legs.  
  
Stiles opened the door, smiling down at Jackson and shifting his gaze to his father.  
  
“Mr Stilinski.”  
  
“Uh, what’s up, Mr Hale?”  
  
“Please, call me Derek,” Derek looked slightly uncomfortable at making any sort of eye contact with Stiles. Which was hilarious because he wasn’t the one who’d had a terror boner for Mr Hale every time he recalled the glare, the tiara and the flower-beard.  
  
Jackson tugged at Derek’s pants and tried to disappear into the crook of Derek’s arm even more.  
  
“Can we come in?” Derek asked softly.    
  
“Only if you call me ‘Stiles’,” Stiles winked at Jackson.  
  
Stiles opened the door and led them to the living room, wishing he’d cleared his bright red bell jars of borscht from the counter and worn something nicer than a ratty Beacon County Sheriff’s t-shirt and worn sweat pants.

“Um, Mr Stiles? Are you gonna report us again? I really like this place. Please don't make us leave!” Jackson looks close to tears.

 _Great going, Stilinski! You just made a kid cry._  
  
“He wants to apologize,” Derek sounded rather indulgent considering the melt-down Stiles was sensing from Jackson.   
  
“Aw, little dude, you don’t ever have to apologize for dancing,” Stiles wasn’t that great with kids. Usually, he was more _like_ them than being adept at _handling_ them.  
  
“I’m sorry for the complaint, Mr Hale. I didn’t know what you were doing,” Stiles searched Derek's face. He’d never wanted to cause any problems for the sweet family.  
  
“It’s not a problem. My sister Laura’s the manager you’d emailed to. She’s been helping me with the move.”  
  
“Was she the one who- I’m sorry, it’s none of my business,” Stiles caught himself, failing at nonchalance.  
  
“Was she the one upstairs earlier? Yeah,” Derek now had a legit smirk on his face and Stiles needed more time to process all this new information, _damn it_!  
  
Jackson brightened up considerably after this exchange but his face goes scrunched up again, all kinds of adorable Stiles couldn’t resist.    
  
“Um, Mr Stiles, will you go out with my dad?”  
  
_Whoa. What now?_  
  
“Jackson!” Derek’s smirk disappeared and his face ran a gamut of emotions, it was impossible for Stiles to catch any of it. “I’m sorry, Stiles. He tends to read too much into what I tell him.”  
  
“But Dad! Even Auntie Laura agrees he’s the Elf Prince! He’s got all the moles and the hair!”  
  
“Um, what? I’m really sorry, Mr Hale, but I’m not following?”  
  
“I tell him stories and they feature a guy, a prince of sorts, who has moles and short brown hair.”  
  
“Dad, tell him about his impish smile and all the books he always carries around!”    
  
Stiles was kind of stunned anyone even paid attention to him in that building, especially the guy who’d just moved in. He felt his own face heat up, not knowing what to do with himself all of a sudden.  
  
“Um, I’m flattered! It’s not everyday I get called an _Elf Prince_ ,” Stiles measured his words, not wanting to say anything to upset Jackson.  
  
“I’m so sorry, Stiles,” Derek’s face falls.  
  
“No, it’s not a bad thing! I love fairy tales and fantasy. If you look at my bookshelves, they’re totally filled with Lord of the Rings stuff and more. I mean, I really should try playing a round of DnD as an Elf Prince one of these days, maybe fashion him as a Chaotic Good kind of character,” Stiles had to stop himself from blabbering.     
   
“So, it’s a date then?” A chipper voice piped up from the doorway.

Stiles looked up and saw the gorgeous lady he'd seen a few weeks ago. _Laura Hale._  
  
“Laura, I told you to stay upstairs!”  
  
“Oh no, this is too good to stay out of! Wait till I tell Cora and Dad. Wait till I tell _Mom_!”  
  
Derek groaned, dropping his head into his hands.  
  
“So, coffee?” Derek looked at Stiles with something bright and sweet in his eyes. Stiles was definitely not prepared for today.    
  
“Mr Stiles! Now ask for Dad’s hand in marriage!”


End file.
